The American Secret
by PurpleLuna98
Summary: It's America's 237th birthday party! The countries are there, of course, but two particular nations start to notice trend in America's other party guests. Will a secret that's been hidden for over 300 years be demolished with just a bit of curiosity, or will America manage to avoid the threat once again? Rated K for occasional language.
1. Chapter 1

**And another new story from PurpleLuna98!_ Enjoy!_**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, Macy's, Adele, or LMFAO (or anything else that might be hinted at)_**

**_Warnings: France (ohonhonhon~), slight cussing_**

**_Song of the Chapter: Just Give Me a Reason: P!nk_**

* * *

"Ah, _Amerique! Bon anniversaire!_" France said from behind America. He turned and smiled down at his long time friend.

"Thanks, dude. What is it?" America asked, already ripping open the packaging. He blushed at what he saw.

France nudged him. "For some _special_ birthday love, _oui?_"

"Uh... Y-yeah!" America said, quickly closing the package. France laughed.

"What better gift is there, _mon ami?_"

America couldn't help it, he glanced over at his beloved Lady Liberty. "Oh, I can think of one..."

France smiled after he followed his friend's line of sight. "Yes, I guess that was one of my better gifts."

America smiled wistfully, and didn't even notice when France slipped back into the crowd. He placed the gift on the table next to the others - in the back so it wouldn't be seen - and leaned against the railing.

Today was his birthday, the Fourth of July. They were in a penthouse on top of some building, and the view of the balcony he was on gave him a great view of Lady Liberty, and where the Macy's fireworks would be shot off.

He felt the wind rustle his hair. No one had contacted him today, which was a giant change from last year. It was nice to have just a day, a day to remember, to _feel_, that he was and is the strongest nation out there. Built on liberty, built on the pursuit of freedom and happiness.

He sighed happily. He couldn't think of a more touching moment, except maybe Iggy standing here with him, his eyes half-lidded as America leaned down to touch his lips against his soft, velvety ones- wait. What was he thinking?!

America shook his head. No, none of that. He knew England hated this day. For good reasons, of course.

"Mr. Jones?" A male voice behind America asked. He turned to see a lightly tanned man wearing a white tee-shirt under another plaid shirt that was unbuttoned. His jeans were well-worn, and his hiking boots also looked loved. His messy brown hair hung in his eyes, and his stubble made him look a lot older than he was. His hands were stuffed into his pockets.

America raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"The DJ is lookin' for ya. Somethin' about singin' a song for the birthday boy."

America smirked. "Could I ask who my messenger is?"

His face stayed stoic, but America could see in his eyes that he was teasing him. "The name's Jayden."

America nodded. "Thanks. I'll see you around, then?"

"I'll be here all night." And with that, the man disappeared into the crowds, still hiding his hands.

America passed Canada on his way to the DJ booth. "Hey bro! What's up?"

"Nothing much. What about you?" Canada had joined him on his mission to the DJ.

"Gonna talk to the DJ."

"Oh. Well, I think I see Katyusha over there with Hungary..." America smiled when his brother's cheeks flushed slightly.

"Go get her, man." America said, pushing the reluctant Canadian into the crowds before he could object.

His mission was renewed. He was almost there, too, when Japan stopped him. "Alfred-kun, happy birthday."

America smiled. "Thanks, Kiku-kun! I gotta take care of some business, but promise me we can get a drink later?" He nodded, and America set back out into the crowds.

He had finally reached the DJ booth. A man with blonde hair sticking straight up, and red, white and blue streaks running through it, had headphones in his hand and they were pressed to his ear was manning it. He was nodding to the beat of the music. He wore tight black jeans, shirt, and shoes. He wore chain suspenders that hung from his waist. His right hand was covered by a black glove that ran halfway to his elbow.

I tapped his shoulder. He put the headphones down and put on an Adele song.

"'S'up, birthday boy?" He asked.

America smiled at the song. 'Someone Like You'. One of his favorites. "Sorry, but I didn't catch your name?"

"Ah, sorry dude. My name's Lance. DJ Lance, in fact."

He smiled, and America smiled back. "Right. So you needed me?"

"Right, well the band was asking about what they were going to play during the fireworks."

America nodded slowly, thinking it over. "Just play the anthem, America the Beautiful, and God Bless America."

"Anything _else?_" He asked, looking at America suggestively.

"Yes, in fact. I saw a man earlier that I didn't recognize. He had black hair with brown streaks in it. Could you point me in his direction?"

The man in front of him visibly deflated. "Yeah, he went to the seating area with another man."

"Thanks."

America walked away from the booth, and the DJ put on an LMFAO song. He walked through the crowds, occasionally waving or laughing at one of the countries, greeting them, then walking off. He kept his eyes open for England on the way to the seating area and the bar, but he didn't keep his hopes up.

He reached the seating area, and found two men, one being the one he was looking for, and another being someone else he recognized. They both looked at him when he sat down.

The man he was looking for did indeed have brown streaks through his hair, though he knew that they were natural. His brown eyes looked over America with dismay. He wore a brown suit with a red, white, and blue tie, and a fedora perched atop his head was also red, white, and blue.

"Excuse me, sir, but could you tell me if this was a formal occasion or not?" He asked, eyes suddenly shooting up to America's. He knew it hurt to call him 'sir'.

"Of course, dude. It was unformal." America said.

"Dammit! Thanks alot Ne- I mean Noah. You call me up and say you know this is a formal occasion, then you arrive and tell me it isn't!"

America looked over the other man. He wore a white tank top, army cargo pants, and army boots. His arms were bulging with muscles, and one of his arms, his right arm, had gauze wrapped up until the elbow. He made a noise that sounded a lot like 'pfft'. "Did not. You're just trying to get me back from last time, _Aiden_."

America held up his hand, getting the attention of both men. "It doesn't matter. All I need is-" Both of the men in front of him were glaring at something over him.

America turned and saw Mexico standing there, looking scared of two sets of harsh glares being directed at her. She glanced down at him. America looked back at them, then back at her. He shrugged.

"They hate your soccer team." He said easily. Mexico relaxed a tad, but he could tell she was still wary.

"Everyone wants to know when the fireworks are." She said.

America looked at his watch. "Ten minutes. I'll make an announcement over the loudspeaker."

She nodded, smiled, wished him happy birthday, then disappeared into the crowds. America turned on the two men in front of him and leveled a glare at both of them. They visibly shrunk. "I'm going to pretend that didn't happen. Now, Aiden, was it?"

"Yes, that's my name." He said, taking off his hat.

"Could you and-" America waved for the man to tell him his name.

"Noah." He supplied after a pause.

"-and Noah go and take care of the fireworks?"

"Shouldn't _he _be taking care of them?" 'Aiden' grumbled.

"He's doing other things."

"DJ?" Noah asked, uncrossing his arms, as if knowing he'd have to get up and do America's request already.

"Yes."

"Okay. Let's go, _Aiden_." He said, already standing up and dragging the deeply-tanned man behind him. Aiden barely had time to grab his hat.

America laughed and got up. Just as he was pushing in his chair, he felt arms wrap around his waist. He looked down at the hands, which were hidden under long, tan sleeves and black gloves. America smiled as the arms were pulled off of him.

"Happy Birthday!" The little girl that had just been detached from him cried as he turned around.

In front of him was a small girl that looked about the age of twelve. She wore a tan parka, black gloves, and black boots. She had her favorite flower in her black hair, blue petals and yellow middle, and her happy violet eyes stared up at him.

Holding the happy child back was another women that wore a sparkly red dress that showed off her curves and could be seen on the red carpet. Her skin was a couple shades darker than America's, and her black hair fell around her face in perfect ringlets. She wore a bracelet with red flowers that matched her dress on her right hand. She had pretty brown eyes.

America smiled at the display. "Thank you. May I ask who you fine ladies are?"

The woman smiled when the smaller girl stopped struggled and she could pick her up. "Yes, you may. My name is Chlöe Valeria. Just call me Chlöe; and this is my daughter, Isabella. She likes to go by Anastasia, though."

America smiled. "It's nice to meet the both of you. Especially you, Chlöe." He said, winking.

Chlöe giggled. "It is always a pleasure to meet the birthday man, I would say. Sorry, Mr. Jones, but we should get going. We need to find good places for the fireworks."

America nodded. "No problem. Have a fine evening."

"You too, Mr. Jones, and a happy birthday, I would hope."

"Bye bye, Mr. Jones!" The little girl cried over her 'mother''s shoulder.

America jumped when his brother spoke up behind him. "Who was that?"

He turned and smiled to his twin. "Just a fine lady I've just met."

"Alfred, have you noticed that a lot of people are wearing things on their right hand, but not their left hand?" Canada asked.

America stiffened. "What? What do ya mean, Mattie?" He asked a light-heartedly as possible.

"I don't really know. I only started noticing it after Kiku pointed it out to me, then asked if I had seem you."

Damn that Japanese man's perceptive skills. "Must be a new crave or somethin'. I haven't really noticed."

"Okay. The fireworks are starting soon, right?" America's twin brother asked.

He looked at his watch. Two minutes. "Yeah, really soon. I better make an announcment. You should make your way over to the balcony."

America made the announcement over the loudspeaker. Someone came up to him afterwards. He wore baggy jeans and a belt, a tee-shirt that proclaimed that 'the US of A is the way', and converse. He had dirty blonde hair and sea-green eyes. His right wrist was covered up by the way he was holding his Alabama 'Tide' hat.

"Hello, Mr. Jones." He said.

"Might I ask who you are?" America asked, though he knew _exactly _who he was.

"My name's Jackson. I just wanted to know if ya wanted to square-dance with me and a couple 'o friends." His southern accent was very thick, but America could easily decipher it.

"Sure! Dance floor after the fireworks?"

"That'd be awesome. See ya there." And with that he disappeared upstairs. All guests that weren't VIP had to watch from the roof, so sadly every guest but the countries was upstairs.

America made his way to the balcony. He shoved his way to the front, then leaned over the rail. He looked up and saw that his guests on the roof were looking out to the sky, waiting for the fireworks. There were fireworks in the distance, of course, from the Macy's show that was broadcasting across the nation, but he was expecting his fireworks.

Then, they started. The band that was positioned on the roof started playing the Star-Spangled Banner as they started. No one on the balcony but him sang, but everyone on the roof did. Then they started playing America the Beautiful as the fireworks reached their climax. The reds, whites, and blues exploded into planets, UFO's, willows, and happy faces.

America couldn't help but feel his pride swell. It was his 237th birthday, after all. Why shouldn't he feel proud? His nation had grown from the small colonies that had defeated a great empire to a huge superpower that had half of the world relying on it. Yeah, he got insults. Yeah, people hated his. Yeah, he knew that everyone but him kept grudges extremely easily. But his nation had something to be proud about. He was the nation to turn to in a time a of need. Everyone knew that.

The fireworks ended to God Bless America. There was clapping, and the song of 'Happy Birthday' started up as America turned to see his cake being wheeled in. It was basic, and had 'Happy Birthday, Alfred' scrawled on the top in icing.

He blew out his twenty candles. His friends wished him happy birthday, his enemies that had decided to show up took the cake and ran off to another part of the penthouse. He didn't grab one himself, and instead excused himself. He felt no one follow him as he headed to the second dance floor that nearly no one knew about, minus just a certain couple of his guests and him.

* * *

_**Virtual five bucks to anyone that can guess one of the 'random' people America interacts with, a shoutout to anyone who can guess all seven of them! Also, if anyone can guess why they're hiding their wrists, then you get a personal high-five! (And you get to give me a suggestion of a one-shot I should write.)**_

_**Let the games begin!**_

_**Reviews are welcomed but not required!**_

_**~PurpleLuna98**_


	2. Square-dancing Suspicions?

_**Here I am again! Enjoy!**_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or square-dancing!**_

_**Warnings: cussing, and an angry Arkansasian!**_

_**Song of the Chapter: Drift Away by Uncle Kracker**_

* * *

He walked in and saw that the music was already going. A man wearing a cowboy hat, leather vest with a dirty white tee-shirt underneath, and bluejeans held up by a leather belt, and wearing boots, waved for the music to stop.

It did, and the other forty-nine people in the room were alerted to him. He smiled. "Let's get some square-dancing on!"

He grabbed the nearest lady, the same women that he had 'met' earlier, and got into the line. They started with bowing, and they started tapping their heels and spinning when the music required it.

"So did anyone follow you?" She asked, looking up at America as they got closer again.

"Not that I know of. They'll notice us soon enough, though."

She smirked, and that was when the partner change happened. He was now dancing with a pretty girl that had on a fancy blouse, short jean skirt, and leather boots. She had straight, blonde hair that was the same shade as his own. Her right wrist was covered by a ribbon that was white and matched her blouse.

"What's your name, again?" America asked while doing the motions, spinning and tapping his heels.

She smiled, her eyes were the color of the desert. "Addison."

They got in two lines, and thumping from around the room kept the beat of the music. There was a space just wide enough for people to dance through the lines. They all started to clap, and the first man took his lady's arm and they started tango-ing down the aisle.

America laughed. He was nearly up. He looked across to his partner, and raised his eyebrow. She smirked, and mouthed 'follow my lead'. He nodded.

Then, it was suddenly their turn, and Addison took his arm and put her hand on his middle back. He understood immediately, and they ballroom-danced to the end of the line. The lines broke apart, everyone laughing and roughhousing. The DJ, the same man as before ('Lance'), put on a country song that was relaxing. America laughed and slumped into a chair. Addison and a couple others sat down next to him.

Little did they know, as they started up a conversation about the fireworks this year, that they were being watched by some very astonished countries.

* * *

"I had no idea that America could actually dance! With a lady!" Italy said happily. He was glad that his friend had actually shown some gentleman-like skills.

England rolled his eyes. "But what was that accursed dancing?"

Germany shrugged next to Italy, and he felt his smile broaden. "You mean that you guys don't know? Ve~ one time when America invited me over to his house in Arkansas, we went to a square-dancing party. It was really fun, and America was really nice and slow about teaching me! Ve~"

Germany and England stare at the Italian nation. "You mean it's called square-dancing?"

"Ve~"

"Vell, I have hurd zhat it is a traditional southern-American dance."

"That's what America said when he started to teach me! There was also this other man there. Ve~ he had messy brown hair, stubble that looked a lot like France's, and he wore a plaid shirt over another white shirt!"

"Italy, does he by any chance look like the man that has his right hand in his pocket and sitting next to America?"

Italy looked into the room, and saw the exact man that he remembered sitting next to America. Italy was very confused; he and America had had that party over ten years ago!

Italy pulled back. "Si, that's him!"

England's eyebrows formed a 'V'. "How long ago was this meeting, did you say, Italy?"

"Ve~ it was about eleven years ago. I remember, because pasta had an inflation that year and I went to America's to calm my nerves!"

Germany nodded. "Und zhat man looks exzactly like zhat?"

Italy nodded. England sighed. "Well this is getting a bit weird, but I think we should go in there and confront him about this."

Germany nodded, and Italy led the way in. He made a beeline for America.

"America, America! I saw you dancing and it was exactly like the dance you taught me!" Italy said, jumping up and down in front of the nation and waving his arms.

America looked up and listened to the excited nation. He laughed joyously. "Ah, Italy! Dude, I totally didn't think you'd remember that! I can't believe you'd remember country dancing out of everything I taught you."

America saw that England and Germany had walked in behind Italy.

America saw that England looked upset, and America didn't question further. "Hey Germany, England! What's up with you?"

America noticed that Jayden had gone back and joined the dancing. He stood up, and motioned for the nations to come to a more secluded spot.

"So what did you guys need?" America asked, looking down at England and Italy, then at Germany.

"Ve have a qvestion for you." Germany said.

America nodded. England spoke up. "We want to know who the bloke was that you were talking to."

"Oh, the guy with the messy brown hair?"

"Ve~ I remember him from when you taught me how to dance country!"

America laughed. "It's called square-dancing, Italy. And that was eleven years ago, how could he still look the same?"

The nations agreed, but England could tell that something was not right. "What was his name again?"

"Jayden." America answered easily.

"This 'Jayden' have a last name?" England asked suspiciously. It was weird that America didn't introduce the man by his full name.

"Uh..." America's face turned to surprise, then dread. He was hiding something.

"Mr. Jones?" Said a deep southern accent from behind him. America turned and the man in question was standing behind him. "A miss named Addison has requested you join her in some dancin'."

"Excuse me, sir." England interrupted America's response. "Could you tell me your name?"

America seemed surprised, but the man narrowed his eyes. "Pardon my askin', but why do y'all want ta know my name?"

"We're just curious, because you look familiar, ve~" Italy said.

He still looked suspicious, but he nodded. "O'Neal. Jayden O'Neal."

"Thank you. I was just wondering." England said, smiling to himself.

He nodded, then turned to America. "She's waitin' with some of her friend o'er in the corner if you wanna go talk to her about it."

America nodded, excused himself, them rushed off to the pretty lady he had been dancing with when England had spotted the dance room.

Germany stopped Jayden from walking away. "So vhere are you from?"

"America." He answered casually.

"Where in America?" England asked.

"Arkansas. Little Rock, in case y'all were wonderin'."

Italy's eyes widened. "Ve~ can you read?"

Jayden's eye twitched. He clenched the hand that was visible, and then narrowed his pale blue eyes. "I _can_ read, thank you."

"Ve~ can you play the banjo?" Italy asked, smiling happily.

Germany had to physically hold back Jayden after that. "'Course I can, but that don't mean y'all can go 'round 'sumin' that I can!"

America hurried over and easily took Jayden from Germany. "Sorry, he's sensitive to stereotypes."

"Damn right I am, Pa! Lemme at 'im!"

"Leave you guys." America said, his eyes hardened.

England rushed out and closed the door behind them. But as they were rushing away, England couldn't help but hear that one piece of what Jayden had said.

_Pa_

* * *

The party was over, and the G8 minus America was having a meeting in England's hotel room (Ohonhon, Angleterre! You could've just asked! *smack*).

"So what you're saying is that Jayden-san called Alfred-kun father?" Japan asked again.

England nodded. "Southern men generally call their fathers 'Pa'."

"What did this man look like?" Francis asked.

"Messy brown hair, stubble like yours, country clothes, country accent, and his right hand was hidden." England replied.

"I remember seeing him at the New Year's Party America threw! I also remember a lovely lass that wore a pretty blouse, short jean skirt and cowboy boots!"

"Now zhat I think about it, she vus zhere, too!" Germany said, thinking of the girl America had danced with.

"What does this mean?" Japan asked.

"I say we ask America himself, da?" Russia put in. He was just as curious as the rest of them. Did America really have children? To Russia, that could mean a point of weakness.

"Ja, I agree vith Russia."

"Ve~ Can we have pasta if I agree?"

"Ja."

"Yay! I agree with Germany!"

England sighed and turned to Japan, France, and Canada (who?). "What are your opinions?"

"Ohonhon, I want to know if Amérique has un fil ou une fille!" France said.

"I don't want to invade Alfred-kun's privacy, but I must admit that I am curious."

"Well... I don't think we should..." A quiet voice said.

The voice was overheard as England nodded. "I also want to know what this is about. So is it agreed? We will travel to America's apartment and ask him ourselves?"

Everyone nodded but one, who tried to object again, but he wasn't heard.

* * *

_**Sorry guys, but one of the states that was in the 'guessing game' is now out. Arkansas gets a spotlight here, and his anger at stereotypes against him comes from the many Arkansasians who I've met and their hatred towards their stereotypes. No, his real last name isn't 'O'Neal', but this was also taken from a family I've met while in Arkansas. Arkansas's full name is 'Jayden William Jones'.**_

_**But hey, if it's any consolation, then the man at the beginning can also be added into the mix! Addison, Lance, Anastasia, Aiden, Noah, Chlöe (someone's already guessed her identity correctly!), Jackson, and Mr.-No-Name!**_

_**Remember, if you get all seven of their state names correctly, you get a shoutout from me in the next chapter! (Or after whatever chapter you guess it!)**_

_**Reviews are welcomed, but not required!**_

_**~PurpleLuna98**_


	3. An Angry American

_**Very short A/N today!**_

_**So hey guys, I had three hours of rest at band camp, so I decided to send you this! It is not edited (as I didn't have time to), but I really wanted to post something, so here we are.**_

_**If you don't use gmail, everything with '_' around them (_example_) is italicized. Please excuse this monstrasity of no editing, but I've got to go! See you guys tomorrow! :D**_

_**Edit: I have edited this now, so it's all good. I'll be posting things today, no guarantee how much, though.**_

_**~PurpleLuna98**_

* * *

America yawned. "Empire, I'm crashin' at your place, and you don't have a guest room?"

"Sorry, Dad. I'll take the couch."

America laughed tiredly. "As long as you don't mind."

"I was planning to anyway." New York was in front of the mirror, attempting to towel out some of the hair dye in his hair that was sticking straight up.

"Night, York."

"Night Dad!" New York called. Sighing, he tossed another towel stained in red, white, and blue and picked up another puffy white one. This was going to be a while.

He heard a knock at the door. New York looked down at himself: no shirt and sweatpants. He still had his glove on that covered his wrist, so with the towel still in hand, he rushed to the door.

He opened it. "Hello-?"

New York was facing seven of the eight G8. The one who had knocked had been a man with slicked-back blonde hair and piercing blue eyes.

He blushed when he noticed that New York didn't have a shirt on. New York pretended not to notice. "Can I help you guys?" He asked in his thick Brooklyn accent.

The man he despised the most stepped forward. New York narrowed his eyes at the eyebrows atop his forehead. Man, did New York hate this guy. "Yes, is Alfred Jones' home?"

"Yeah man, but he's asleep. So if you could come back-"

"York, who's at the door?" A sleepy America asked from behind him. He had changed into a baggy tee-shirt that said 'you've got the right one, baby' and grey sweatpants.

"Go back to bed, Mr. Jones. You need to rest up." New York said in a fake-polite voice.

"Actually, Alfred we need to talk to you." England called over New York's shoulder - or more accurately, around since New York was taller than him.

America snapped awake at that. He looked at the man in the door, then waved them in. "Lance, comm'ere for a sec." He said once they closed the door. America walked into the hall, and New York followed.

"When did they get here?" America asked, crossing his arms.

"Couple seconds ago. I was about to tell 'em to piss off before ya showed your face." New York replied back, putting his white towel - slightly stained with dye - across his shoulders.

"Okay. Try to stay out of the room. Go back to rinsing that dye out or somethin'. Remember, you _don't_ know about them."

New York nodded. "Sure, Dad."

With that, New York went back into the bathroom, and America returned to the room. He saw seven expectant faces looking back at him.

"So what's up guys? It's one in the mornin'." America pointed out.

"Alfred-kun, was that the DJ from the party?" Japan asked. For the second time that day, America cursed the man's perception.

"Yeah. He's a good friend of mine, so I'm crashin' with him."

"This is your apartment, _da_? Shouldn't he be staying with you?" Russia asked, smiling at America.

America rolled his eyes. "Nah, this has always been his apartment."

"Whatever. America, at the party, in the dance room-"

America cut England off with a groan. "Yeah, sorry 'bout that! I didn't know he'd overreact that much, or I wouldn't have left him alone with Italy!"

England's eyes narrowed. "Anyway, before he told us to get out, I thought I heard him call you 'Pa'."

America's eyes took on a serious tone for a second, then snapped right back to confusion. "Huh? What, no he couldn't have thought that!"

There was a noise from the hallway. Lance - still with half of his spikes left dyed - was standing in the doorway with a huge pile of soiled towels in his hands.

"Yo, Alfred an' company, sorry to interrupt, but I'm goin' to crash soon, and you guys are kinda takin' up my couch." He dumped the pile into a laundry shoot.

America sighed. "We'll be done soon, and if not, then I'll take the couch."

"I couldn't have that! You're _my_ guest for once, and I want you to take the bed. I gonna wait in the kitchen 'til you guys are done." Lance took out his phone and started to walk towards the hall again.

America turned to face his company again, but then Lance called his name. "Yeah?"

"Don't forget about tomorrow. Ya don't wanna be stayin' up too late." And he was gone yet again.

America sighed. "Look, you guys, I know you think this is important, but I don't have any kids. Jayden didn't call me 'Pa', and Lance doesn't have any connection to me."

Russia's smile widened slightly. "We didn't say anything about Lance being related to you, _da_?"

"Right. Tell us the truth, America." England demanded.

"You guys don't believe me? Ask Lance." America said angrily, as if he was actually offended.

"Lance is probably in on this, _da_?"

"Hai. I am sorry, Alfred-kun, but it just fits together all too easily."

America rubbed his temple. "Fine, don't believe me. You can get out of my friend's house and leave the country right now if that's the case."

The countries stared at America, but he looked back up at them with an anger-laced glare.

The countries cleared out, but they were still suspicious of America's behavior.

* * *

New York woke up, his limbs sprawled across the couch. He looked at his clock: 8:37. Damn, he woke up early again. He sat up on the couch - which was surprisingly comfortable considering New York's style - and ran a hand through his hair. Unlike popular belief, New York's hair actually stood up on its own, and he didn't put hair gel in it. So running his hand through it was like running his hand through a porcupine's back (except a lot softer).

He stood slowly, then trudged over to the kitchen. He grabbed the coffee pot and plugged it in, then went over to the refrigerator to get the creamer.

When he returned, the coffee was brewing. He moaned, remembering the house (apartment) guest that was sleeping down the hall and his mood flips if he didn't get enough coffee in the morning.

"Excuse me, but could you pass the milk?" Someone asked. New York grabbed a knife (out of reflex!) and spun around.

There was no one but him in the kitchen. New York tilted his head, the scratched it. Maybe it was his imagination? Yeah, that must be it.

He turned back to the coffee pot. It was ready, so he poured himself a cup and put the required amount of creamer and sugar into it to make it delicious, then brought it to his lips. Mmmmm, delightful.

New York trudged down his hallway. He slammed open his bedroom door and flicked open the curtains. America moaned, and the covers moved on top of the bed.

"Come on, Dad." New York said, tying the curtain strings. "We have the party today, and I need to do things with you before it."

America moaned, realizing that he wasn't going to get out of this one. "Fine. Ten more minutes."

"Dad, you know as well as I do that ten minutes can turn into ten hours in a matter of seconds." New York said, walking over to the edge of the bed. There was one pillow missing, and New York would bet a million bucks that America was cuddling the pillow under the sheets, attempting to fall back asleep.

"Ten more..." America said lazily, shifting under the covers. New York ripped the covers off of the bed in one fluid motion.

His father was curled against a pillow, his arms around it, his head stuffed into it, and his knees along the bottom of it. He moaned loudly, causing New York to roll his eyes.

"I'll give you until five to get your ass up and moving."

"You can't to nothin' ta hurt me." America said as defiantly as he could with his face stuffed into a pillow.

"One..." New York looked over at the door. For a second, he had gotten the feeling that there was someone watching him from the doorway.

When he looked back at his father, he noticed he hadn't moved. "Two..."

There was a moan, and America shifted a little bit so that one of his sky blue eyes was squinting at New York.

"Three."

The bed was violently yanked out from under America, and the country was sent toppling to the ground. New York smiled mischievously as his father disappeared behind the other side of the bed with a rather loud THUD.

America's head popped up seconds later, his hair sticking in all directions and his cowlick looking like it belonged (for once). "What the hell, Empire?!"

"Told ya that ya had until three." New York said, putting the mattress back in its place.

America pouted pathetically. "That was mean, you know that I don't like mornings!"

"Face reality, Dad, no one likes mornings, but people deal with it."

America pouted again, and New York rolled his eyes. He walked to the door.

"Make sure to be out there by nine o' clock."

"How long does that give me?"

"Ten minutes." New York exited the room to the cussing of an American man as he hurriedly got up and ran out of the room, past New York, and towards the kitchen.

When New York entered the room, America was drinking New York's coffee and quickly making another. New York smiled. "Only two cups, Dad."

America whirled around in sudden anger. If it was anybody other than one of his states, then they would have known to run away at his glare. "I'll have more than just that, dammit."

"Finally waking up, are we?" New York asked, taking out a pan and placing it on the stove.

"Shut the fuck up and give me more coffee!"

"You'll just crash later if you have more, Dad. Just have some breakfast and you'll wake up." He walked to the fridge and got ham, cheese and eggs. He walked back to the stove after kicking the fridge closed.

"Fucking shitty bitchy bastard." America muttered, making himself a third glass. New York snatched it away deftly, took the coffee pot, and placed them on the other side of the stove.

"Dammit, Empire, give me the damn coffee pot!" America yelled.

New York cracked an egg. "No."

America stormed over to him and took his hair. New York was forced to look up at America, and New York resisted the urge to smirk at his father's anger that he barely ever showed. "Give. Me. The. Fucking. Coffee."

"I. Will. Not." New York said, keeping a calm demeanor against America's angry one.

"Dammit, Germany, let me go!" A voice yelled from very close next to the doorway. America and New York's heads both snapped over to the place.

America growled, and dropped New York. He brushed himself off - this was a usual occurrence, of course (minus the voices that New York had been hearing).

"England, you're here, aren't you?" America growled, walked slowly towards the spot that was by the doorway.

"Dad, no one is there." New York said, turning back to his eggs (which were still cooking). "Come and sit down."

"Empire, did you not hear the fucking voice that came from over here? If not, then your hearing is shit."

New York sighed. "Whatever you-"

America sniffed by the door, causing New York to turn around in bewilderment. "Dad?"

"I sense magic. It smells like invisibility magic. Damn, England must be here."

There was a crash by the fridge. America had tackled the air and was holding air down. "Dad?!"

"I got him!" America cried, easily holding the air down and occasionally moving as if it was thrashing.

"Dammit America, let me go!" The same voice that had spoken twice before said angrily. New York picked up an English accent.

"No fucking way. Why the hell were you spying on us?" America looked to his left, where a gun was floating (how had New York not noticed that before?!) in the air. "Put the gun down, Germany."

"Release England und explain yourzelf, _ja_?" The gun said. New York's head hurt.

America rolled off of the air. "Release the spell. Now."

"Fine." Two men from last night appeared after the voice muttered something. One New York recognized as England, and the other was obviously Germany.

"Now, explain yourselves _this instant._" America practically growled. England flinched and Germany shrunk a tad, though not noticeably.

"Dad, don't hurt them. I still won't give you coffee." New York said, now putting the eggs that the had made on a plate with cheese and ham mixed in.

"Empire, leave." America said calmly. New York knew immediately that America was fully awake.

"Why?" New York said, holding a plate out to him. His own was still on the counter. "Shouldn't I be here?"

America contemplated it. "Sit."

New York sat at the island that was in his kitchen. He started to help himself to his food as America did the same. The two other countries looked scared as hell of America's death glare.


	4. Catching the Plane

_**And another chapter for The American Secret!**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia**_

_**Warnings: suggestions of sex, cussing, suggestions of violence, and mentions of war**_

_**Song of the Chapter: Jukebox Hero by Foreigner**_

* * *

"No answer?" America asked, his voice deadly calm. England coughed awkwardly.

"Well, yes. We thought that you were acting suspicious last night, so we decided to investigate you and Germany and I arrived an hour after we had left, and-"

"You watched us sleep?" New York asked nonchalantly. America blushed, as did England and Germany.

"N-no!" England cried indignantly

"_Nien!_ Ve vere vaiting for you to awaken!" Germany forced closely after England.

New York shrugged and swallowed some eggs. "Hey, at least we weren't sleeping together last night. Dad can be such a snuggler."

America sighed, his face still red, and continued to eat. "Whatever. Just continue."

"Yes, okay. Well, Lance woke up before you, he made coffee, then woke you up. Then things escalated until where we are now."

"So you barged into my house because you were suspicious?" New York asked, his face betraying the fact that he felt amazed at this action.

The Brit shook his head wildly. "No, no, it wasn't just that! You see, we've been having this suspicion for a while, and it's not that often that-"

"Iggy, drop the act and tell us what you're thinking." America spoke up, cutting New York's hated nemesis effectively.

"Vell... Ve kind uf came here to get you to spit it out." Germany said boldly, yet timidly. New York wondered how that was possible.

America looked at New York. He shook his head, the made a cutting throat motion. America frowned, and New York shrugged. Why couldn't he have his fun?

"Sorry guys, I can't tell you." America said, turning back to the two countries.

New York started to fiddle with his glove. He would gravely regret this later, as both countries were alerted to him wearing it. Again.

"Why do you wear that, Lance?" England asked in his damn British accent.

"Because my wrist usual hurts and I keep it in this to help it get better." Lance answered easily. He had answered that question many times before.

"Isn't zhat vhat a brace iz for?" Germany asked.

"This works better for me. Any more questions?"

"Yes, actually. Why did you call America 'Dad'."

New York screamed inwardly. Then, he remembered the excuse they had all made up. "Well, ya see, my Dad is a senator in the Senate, and I like to hang out with Alfred, or Mr. Jones as my Dad insists I call him, and he's more like a father figure to me than my own father is."

"Why did he get really angry back there with the coffee, and you didn't react at all? It was like it had happened before."

"It has. Alfred doesn't like to not have his coffee."

The Brit (the accursed bastard), seemed to agree with this, but Germany was still suspicious. "Explain zhis to me, und ve vill leave."

"Okay." New York's hopes lifted. This would be over and they could get on the plane to Virginia!

"Vhy did Amerika call you Empire? Und zhen you rezponded az if it had happuned before." Germany said matter-of-factly. New York openly gawked. This was bad, very bad.

He turned to America. He looked as scared as New York was under his thick layer of expectancy.

"You are going to answer, _ja?_" Germany said, smiling like he had won.

New York smiled, though even her knew it looked fake. "Dude, totally a nickname."

"Oh _ja?_ Vell, vhat about vhen ve vere calling each ozher by our country names?"

"Oh yes, I remember. You didn't look scared or confused in the slightest." England put in. New York glared at him, making him flinch a tad.

"I thought those were nicknames, too."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, you damn bitch!" New York exploded. "Get your fucking British self out of my fucking house if you don't believe this shit that I'm telling you! God, I've hated you ever since the war!"

New York stormed over to America, who looked up at him, surprised. "Better be on the fucking plane in a fucking hour, got it?"

And with that, the angry New Yorker stormed out of the apartment, leaving three astonished countries in his wake.

"Amerika?" Germany asked, breaking the silence.

America looked back at them. Except his look was more of a glare. "You guys really want to know what's up?"

"_Ja._"

"Please."

America smiled a wicked smile that made him look like the Cheshire Cat. "Then pack you things, boys, because we're going to Virginia for my _actual_ birthday party."

* * *

New York checked his watch. 9:56. Damn, would America actually blow him off? No, no. He wouldn't do that. He loved them, all of them.

He checked his watch again. 9:57. Damn, damn, damn! Is it so hard to-

"Hey buddy, you okay?" Someone asked from the seat next to him. He looked over to find his Dad, with one earbud in his ear, his bomber jacket over his shoulders, and a smirk on his features.

"Jesus, Dad, I though you'd miss the flight."

"I, uh... Ran into some trouble." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Like what?" New York asked, noticing for the first time that he hadn't sat down yet.

"Like this bloody bloke refusing to tell us the truth and dragging us onto a plane saying he'll explain when we get there." England said from across the aisle, Germany sitting next to him.

New York's eyes darkened. "So you agreed to explain to them?"

"They said they'd have Russia on me! It's harder to get something past Russia than it is to get it past Noëlle!"

New York shrugged. "Fine, but everyone will hate you for it."

"Are you quite sure? I'm pretty sure only certain people will oppose to seeing other countries."

New York smirked and leaned back into the seat. "Either way, this will definitely be interesting."

* * *

**_Yay, another chapter completed! Sorry for it being so short, but don't worry! The next chapter will definitely be long enough to accommodate. Plus, we get to meet the states next chapter! Yay~!_**

**_Reviews are welcomed, but not required!_**

**_~PurpleLuna98_**


	5. Meeting Our First States

_**A new chapter! Hurray~! By the way, there are lots of POV changes in this chapter, so beware~!**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia... only my state OCs...**_

_**Warnings: cussing, lots and lots of threats, and an angry little Alaskan state! :D**_

_**Song of the Chapter: No Air by Jordin Sparks**_

* * *

They arrived in Virginia soon after that. England wasn't expecting anyone to meet them at the airport, but obviously he should have expected more from America. Why, because there was a pretty lady waiting for them at baggage return.

She had on a tight black dress, leather jacket, Ugg boots (don't asked why he knew the brand - long story), and gloves. She had straight blonde hair that fell down her back, unusually big eyebrows (they seemed familiar somehow...), and bright green eyes.

She ran over when she saw Lance, and hugged him against her (rather large) chest. "Ooooh, you should come and visit more, Empire! It's been sooooo long!"

"Get off of me, Dominion!" He yelled. She pushed her away, and she pouted.

"Awww, Yorkie has an attitude."

"I'm _Lance._ And meet our _guests._" Lance said, emphasizing his name and guests. Her eyes widened a bit when she saw Germany, then darkened when she saw England. Lance seemed to see this. "You don't know them, right?"

Her eyes lighted again. "Oh, yes! I'm Alexis Taylor Jones!"

"Jones? Iz zhat a commun last name un Amerika?"

"Duh, where the hell are you from? Smith and Jones are _the_ stereotypical last names for Americans!"

"_Ja,_ zhat makes sense, zhen. Und I am from Germany."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh my god! You're from Europe! How is it there? Is the Euro actually able to be used almost everywhere? Is-"

"Uh, Taylor, Dad is waiting for us."

Alexis turned around to Lance at the word 'Dad'. "So they do already know?"

"No, but Dad and I gave away some things and we're explaining later."

Her eyes were dark and threatening when she turned back to the two countries. "Hurt any of us, especially you, you damn Brit, and I can guarantee multiple painful killings from me and a few others, got it?"

They both nodded, England confused as to why she hated him out of both of them so much, and she turned around. She led the way through the crowds and outside to a minivan that America was already in, sitting in the passenger seat switching radio stations.

Alexis climbed into the driver's seat, Lance climbed into the right side seat, and Germany refused to sit in the middle, leaving England to be the one in the middle.

Lance actually seemed pissed about this. "Dad, don't tell me I have to be next to them damn British bastard!"

Jeez, what the bloody hell did they have against him?! "Yes, Empire. You're going to have to deal. Just pretend you're sitting next to someone you like, like Keystone or something."

Lance sank deeper into his seat. England turned to him. "What is the problem with sitting next to me?"

"'Cuz you're the damn British bastard that hurt Dad. Twice."

"Be glad that it isn't Bay that's here." America said from the front seat. "She'd be beating you senseless right now!"

England paled, then Alexis laughed. "We're going to have to deal with that at the party, then."

"Dang. England, don't be you."

"Bloody idiot! How can I not be me-" England got punched in the face by New York.

"_Don't call my Dad an idiot, you son of a bitch_." Lance said tensely, turning back to the window. England gulped.

"Guys, stop it. He doesn't know who you are yet, so you have no right to take your anger out on him."

"So that means we can when he finds out?"

"Well..."

"No!" England cried. He didn't want to be beat up, no matter who the hell these people were. Next to him, Germany was deep in thought.

While England and Lance argued, Germany interrupted them with a loud 'eh-hem'. Everyone but Alexis, because she was driving, stopped what they were doing and turned to face Germany.

"I have a qvestion for Alexis." He told us.

"Fire away." She said, glancing over at America.

"Vell, you also have gloves exactly like Lance's, und it is qvite vierd zhat you vould be vhereing zhem only vhen you are around us, _ja?_"

Alexis jerked her foot, and the whole car jerked. She stared straight ahead, not looking back at either countries. America sighed. "Keep driving, Dominion. Empire, your wrist."

"Why mine?"

"Because Dominion is driving."

"Whyyyyyy?" He complained, already taking the straps off of his glove. England and Germany watched in awe, hut the car suddenly stopped. Alexis turned around and looked at both of them.

"Breath a word of this to anyone and both of your countries and your people are dead."

They nodded, by now used to the threats, and she didn't turn back to the road. Instead, she started to unclasp her glove.

The countries - minus America - watched in astonishment as both gloves came off at the same time. There was a spiraling red pattern going around both of their right wrists, that looked a lot like ribbon, and when they both turn their hands palm-up, they saw that the red ribbons in their skin connected into a white star that had blue numbers in it. Lance's number was eleven, and Alexis' was ten.

"Nice tattoo, but what is the significance of this?" England was thoroughly confused.

"Good lord, you're denser than I thought!" Lance said, rolling his eyes. England glanced over at America, who was smiling expectantly, as if waiting for him to figure it out.

England thought it through. Alexis offered her wrist again, and England gently took it. It was very elaborate, and England guessed that it actually wasn't a regular tattoo.

"When did you get this?" England asked, gently tracing the ribbon-like red lines around her wrist.

"June 25, 1788." She said easily. "On my first birthday."

England's eyes widened. "Your first birthday? In 1788..."

"He might be figuring it out." Lance said plainly.

"Are you a state?"

Lance rolled his eyes, but smirked, and Alexis smiled softly. "Yes."

England started to fire off questions to both Alexis and Lance, and America whispered something into Alexis' ear. They both got out and switched to the other's side of the car.

America restarted the car and continued to drive, and Alexis turned around and faced Germany and England.

"You each get one question that I promise I'll answer. Germany, you go first."

"Okay... Vhat state are you?"

"I thought you could figure out yourself, as you _are_ one of the smarter countries." She said, inspecting her nails with her feet up on the dashboard. "You don't even want to try?"

"_Nien_. Tell us vhich state you are." Germany insisted. England was still trying to guess which one she was.

"Virginia. My official name is the Commonwealth of Virginia. My nickname is Old Dominion, which Dad refers to me as." She said easily. "Alexis Taylor Jones is my human name."

"Zo your tattoo-"

"Ah ah, one question. England, no matter how much I hate you, I promised you a question. So shoot."

"Why do you hate me?" England immediately spit out. Both Virginia and Lance tensed up at the same time, and America whistled.

Virginia smiled an obviously-forced smile. "Same reason as all of the other thirteen."

"Because you hurt Dad really badly and didn't even apologize. In fact, if he tries to bring it up, _he's_ the one who has to apologize!"

England was surprised. "So wait, you guys-"

"Were there?", "Helped?", "Were tortured because of you?", "Wanted to kill you more than anything after the war?".

They both looked him dead in the eye. "Duh."

* * *

England was especially jumpy after the car ride. If his math was correct, there were eleven other states out to hurt him, one of those states, that was female, wanted to do it painfully.

England shuttered. America put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, man! As long as you let them get their revenge, they'll be fine after that! It's happened to my mom!"

England looked confusedly up at him, but then the forest path that they had been walking on opened up, and he saw a beautiful, Victorian-style house in the distance. It looked exactly how Lithuania described it.

Two people ran across the giant lawn-space to them. At first, because of the distance, England couldn't make them out. Then, as they were closing in, England could see what they looked like. One was a boy who had dark, brown skin, black hair, and beautiful mixture of blue and grey eyes. He wore a flower-print shirt and dark shorts.

The other girl had beautiful violet eyes, long, silky-black hair that flowed to her middle back, and a pale complexion. She wore a brown parka, black snow boots, blue and gold scarf, and black gloves. She also wore a blue and gold flower tucked into her long hair.

They both ran into the now-kneeling America's outstretched arms. "Haha, hey guys!"

"Daddy! Daddy! Keystone was threatening to ship me back to Russia!" The little girl cried in a Canadian/Russian accent.

"And he said he'd never let me see Empire again!" The little boy cried.

America ruffled both of their heads. "Don't worry about it! I'll make sure he doesn't do either, especially the Russia part because that could turn into a huge mess!" The little girl giggled and started to play with America's jacket fuzz. He picked her up in his arms as the little boy ran to Lance - or New York, as England had recently found out.

England walked quicker to catch up to America. "So who is this precious darling?"

"Don't lay a finger on her and I'll tell you." America said cheerfully, though England could sense an undertone of malice. England withdrew his hand.

"Now introduce yourself to England, sweetie." America said down to the little girl. She threw up her hands.

"Grandpa England! Grandpa England!" She cried. England was about to yell some very choice words at her, but she spoke up before he could. "My name's Anastasia! Isabella Anastasia Jones! Daddy and some other states call me Last Frontier, but I don't know what that means... Oh, and I represent the state of Alaska!"

England sighed. She was innocent, after all, so how could he blame her for calling him old? Alaska was a very isolated state, and probably had spent most of her time with Russia. "Hello, Anastasia." America put her down and walked back to where Alexis, Lance, and the little boy were.

She tilted her head. "You're thinking it, aren't you?"

Germany seemed just as confused as England. England turned back to the girl. "What am I thinking?"

"How I'm like Russia, and how I spend so much time with him. Well guess what, England-" England raised his bushy eyebrows at the venom in his own name, "-I hate that damn Commie! It was the best day of my life when he decided to sell me to Daddy! They might have made fun of me, called me a waste of money, but I showed them! I give them gold and oil to this very day! I don't need that Commie just as much as Daddy doesn't need you!" She yelled.

America rushed over and stopped England from launching himself at the small girl. "Stop it, both of you! England, I need you more than you know-" New York nodded approvingly in the background and Virgina gave him a high-five. England would inquire later, "-and Alaska, I know you don't like Russia, but that doesn't mean you can diss him behind his back!"

Alaska huffed and crossed her arms. Something was tugging at England's pants, and he looked down to find the little boy at his feet. "Hello. My name's Kai." He said in a small voice.

Germany bent down to get a closer look at the little boy. "Hallo. I um Germany."

The little boy hid behind England's legs. "Daddy says your friends with Japan!" He cried.

"I'm friends with Japan, too." England said, rather confused with the boy's behavior. Kai screamed and backed away quickly from England.

"Grandpa England is friends with the enemy?!" He cried, having stopped behind New York. "Daddy, make them go away!"

"Paradise, we've gone over this. Japan is a good guy now. He's my friend now, and he's one of your major trading partners."

England thought a moment, back to when Japan had last been his strongest, World War Two, and thought through all of the attacks he had done. England thought of Pearl Harbor, and how after that America had practically dived into the war in rage. "Is this about-"

"Yes." Virginia, New York, and America all said at the same time. Alaska smiled. "I helped Hawaii and Daddy kick Japan's ass."

"Frontier, language!"

"Yes ma'am, Dominion."

"Dad, we should get going before Alabama has a fit." New York said, Hawaii still hiding behind his legs.

America nodded, shrugged, then smirked. "You guys go on ahead. I need to prepare these guys."

* * *

_**What is this? America, sticking up for England?! *wiggles eyebrows* This could get interesting!**_

_**Okay guys, next chapter is the one where we unveil all of the states! This is the last chapter you can cast in your guesses for the states reviled and/or given a peek at earlier in the story. Here, let's get a list out for you guys:**_

_**Addison, Aiden, Noah, Chlöe, Jackson, 'Keystone', 'Bay', and Mr.-No-Name at the beginning of chapter two (and anyone else you guys can find!). Lance and Anastasia were New York and Alaska, respectively, and I kind of feel bad about taking Virginia out of the running so soon after being introduced, but... eh *shrug*. Some of them are easier than others, if you go back and read the descriptions.**_

_**Also, if anyone can guess where I got their nicknames (it's pretty obvious...), then you get to give me a story prompt that I'll attempt to write! Yay, prizes! The prizes for guessing the states are still the same, so lets see how many people get virtual money and virtual cookies! :D**_

_**Reviews are welcomed, but not required!**_

_**~PurpleLuna98**_


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